Is yours a willy-nilly genius, too?
by traumschwinge
Summary: John gets to grab a beer or three with his new neighbor Erik because they both need some away time from their respective flat mate genius. Halfway through complaining, they're called back, only to find two empty apartments. Erik is not pleased at all to meet Sherlock Holmes. Cherik meets Johnlock or something like this.


Ignore the fact that this is not even close to my usual, I just have friends that I hate...er, I meant love very much.

Oh yeah, and I'm sorry if any of the characters act out of character. This is my first time writing for either fandom. Please be gentle.

* * *

John was just closing the door to their new New York apartment, when a loud slam behind him made him turn. It was one of their opposite door neighbors, the taller of the two who always looked like he was ready to murder someone. He could hear him curse under his breath, something about books in the damn fridge or something.

"There are other people who do that?" John asked before he could help it.

The man turned at him with a glare that would melt glass. Luckily for John, he wasn't made of glass at all. "There are?" the guy gnarled. His lips twitched into something that could count as a smile if you squint. "I always thought Charles was the only one."

John shook his head as they walked towards the stairs. "I wish it would only be books I find in there," he sighed. "I once just wanted to take a glimpse inside and got stared back at by a pair of eyes."

The man shook his head. "What the fuck," he murmured. Then he laughed. "Listen, are you free right now? Because I really could use a beer."

John shrugged. It wasn't like Sherlock wouldn't call if he needed him. "Yeah, sure, I just wanted to take a walk anyway," he said.

"Great," the guy said, brushing his hair back with a relieved sigh. "Oh, I'm Erik, by the way. I don't think we met before."

"John," John replied. "No, I don't think so, we only moved in a couple of days ago."

"Right, I remember Charles going over to greet you or something," Erik remarked. "Wanted me to come as well but I ... well, I'm not really that sociable. I hope he wasn't annoying you or anything."

John thought about this. He could only remember one guest they had had since they'd moved in. Sherlock had taken care of him as soon as they had discovered their mutual love for experiments. He had simply taken this as his sign to leave the room. The look on Sherlock's face had been something that made him worry a lot about this, though.

"Brown hair, astonishing blue eyes, red lips?" John asked, just to be sure.

Erik nodded. "That's him."

John shrugged. "I dare say Sherlock even took pleasure in that meeting."

That made Erik roll his eyes. "Charles, too. He wouldn't stop babbling about what a groovy new neighbor we have. I was close to getting really jealous."

They exchanged a long look. "So, are you two..." John asked vaguely.

"A couple? Yes," Erik answered. "And you?"

John shook his head in exasperation. "Just room mates, though everyone seems to think we are."

Erik's eyebrows knit together. "But your... roommate, he's gay, right?"

John shrugged. He assumed so but he'd never dared to ask, for the obvious reason that he couldn't go on denying it then anymore.

Erik huffed. "Oh, great," he murmured.

John shot him a sympathetic look. "Don't worry," he sighed. "Sherlock has never hit on anyone." They had reached the pub near their apartment building by now and steered to an unoccupied booth. Erik got them each a beer-Guinness, John couldn't avoid to notice, no American brand-and they sat down.

"Well, but Charles does," Erik huffed. "And I don't think he even does it intentionally. It's just... well, him. Not that I think he's unfaithful, but... he's a flirt."

John nodded in understanding. But suddenly, he didn't feel all that comfortable anymore that Sherlock and that Charles person got along well. And it wasn't just Erik's unrest that made him feel like it.

"Listen," Erik sighed. "It's probably all right, but..." He shook his head. "No, let's just change the subject." He looked around. "Er... Does your...I mean, does Sherlock leave his things everywhere as well when he claims to be working on something?"

John laughed. "All the time. When he's occupied with a problem, he forgets about everything else."

"There was one time Sherlock called me to come when I was at the other end of town just to bring him something he had left in the kitchen and was too preoccupied to get himself," John admitted laughing.

Erik grinned. "Charles stood me up once because one of his experiments ran late and didn't even notice it. On the contrary, when I called him, he couldn't stop babbling about the experiment. He was so exited about it that I had a hard time being mad at him."

They spent some more time exchanging stories about the main reason for trouble in their respective lives like this, drinking beer while they were on it. John got more and more the impression that Erik really wasn't one to socialize much but then again, in the last few years since meeting Sherlock, he hadn't been either. And their common trouble—an eccentric man as center of their lives—served as a very reasonable foundation to get to know each other better.

Soon, they stopped complaining and moved on to other common interests as they came across them. Erik was eager to hear about the experiences John had gained while serving in Iraq and then they went on to talk about the Middle East in general.

They only noticed how long they had been talking when both their phones rang almost simultaneously.

"John, where are you?" he heard Sherlock complain when he answered the phone. "You're needed here, come back home."

John let out a long sigh. "I can't leave for an hour, can I?" He rolled his eyes. "But I'll be back soon."

He hung up before Sherlock had time to replied to this. Once in a while, John enjoyed being able to have the last word. When Erik had hung up as well—John didn't miss the consoling "Love you" in the end—they shared a long look.

"You too?" was all they said, before they got up and paid before leaving, heading back to the apartment building in silence.

By the time they had arrived at their respective doors, their cells beeped again almost at the same time. They exchanged a glance before they looked at the messages. The one John had received read,

"Got a lead. Needed to hurry. Don't wait up. SH"

Behind Johns back, Erik proved that he was able to curse very colorful in various languages. "What the fuck are they even thinking?" he asked eventually after he was done with swearing.

John could only shrug at that. He assumed the only thing Sherlock had been thinking had been along the lines of "Finally something interesting" or nothing at all. Charles might have simply tagged along or got swept into it like he himself had been when he'd first met Sherlock.

Erik ran a hand through his hair. "Should we go look for them?"

John nodded. "Definitely."

"Any ideas?"

John shook his head. He couldn't really think of anywhere to start. Sherlock's mind worked in mysterious ways that even if he would have been a telepath, he would have troubles guessing.

Erik sighed. "Great," he mumbled."Okay, fine... You know what, I don't even care what they're doing. But you sounded like it might be dangerous, so... We better find them fast before they could get themselves into too much trouble?" He unlocked the door to their flat. "Come in, I doubt it will take long."

John followed Erik. The flat they lived in was neat, much neater than anything occupied by Sherlock could ever be. Only one of the desks showed that Erik wasn't living on his own there, with all the clutter on and around it. But everything else he could see was spotless, clean and overall neat. Judging by what he'd heard, John doubted very much that Charles had anything to do with that.

Erik walked straight towards a laptop sitting on their kitchen counter. John watched him pulling up a website, wondering how the computer had been able to come to live before Erik had even touched it. The website belonged to a local phone company and Erik typed a number into the search field, without even pausing to think. John remembered Sherlock doing something like this before, on their first case together.

With a smile that included way too much teeth to be pleasant, Erik turned away from the laptop. "Found them," he said. "And it's even close and they aren't moving. We might be lucky."

John nodded, even though he strongly doubted than Sherlock and luck even belonged into the same sentence. They might simply be in grave danger and therefore not moving or simply observing someone. Taking a closer look at the map, John suspected the latter. "Are they at a restaurant?"

Erik shrugged. "Looks like it, but I wouldn't bet on it. At least, I hope so," he said. He looked very displeased about all this and the fact that his lover might have taken of with almost a total stranger to have dinner at a restaurant instead of asking Erik first seemed to make matters much worse.

So John only nodded, before they were heading out again, trying to reach the restaurant as long as the lead was still fresh. Even though he suspected that Erik had a whole different reason to hurry now.

Luckily for them, the restaurant was only two blocks away. It was a quiet little place, one of the sort you had to know to find. It made John wonder even more what Charles and Sherlock where doing there.

They could see the two strays through the window. John noticed that Erik was outright angry right now. It really meant much that he didn't storm into the restaurant and dragged his lover out, caveman-style.

John himself didn't know what to feel about it. Sherlock looked like he was enjoying himself, which was a rare sight indeed. It was almost like he had been enchanted by the way his eyes never left Charles' overly red lips. And the way Charles was looking back at him could only be called flirtingly. That was bad, really bad. How could the two of them act like that when they'd just met. It wasn't that John was jealous or anything, he just didn't like the way the two men paid each other so close attention.

Erik and John entered the restaurant just soon enough to hear the waiter ask Charles, "So, are you two on a date?" which made both men laugh but—to John's horror—neither of them denied it. At least Sherlock could have. Or Charles. Charles had any means to, after all, he was in a relationship, wasn't he? It just wasn't right for them to make the waiter think they were on a date.

Before John could even react, Erik was standing next to their table, altering between glaring daggers at Sherlock and looking accusingly at Charles. "Charles, what are you doing here?" he asked accusingly. The cutlery started to rattle.

Charles looked up at his lover with his ridiculous blue eyes that made a twinge of jealousy go though John's mind before he could even help it. It was easy to see why Sherlock had taken a liking in the man, and he was almost positive that the three PhDs weren't the end of that story. "Why, I'm eating, can't you tell?" he asked and lifted two fingers to his temple. Erik and Charles shared a long look and the tiny changes in their facial expressions suggested that they were leading an inaudible argument.

"Fascinating," Sherlock whispered and leaned a bit further forward, his eyes still fixed on Charles. Immediately, every single item made of metal on the table pointed at Sherlock.

Charles rolled his eyes. "Stop being so dramatic," he sighed.

"I'm not dramatic," Erik snapped back at him. "How should I behave when you're having a dinner date with somebody you just met?"

"We haven't just met," Charles said. With some reluctant relief, John noted that the cutlery at least wasn't hovering anymore.

"So?" Erik snarled.

"Isn't it obvious? We've been classmates in boarding school," Sherlock interjected. The glare Erik shot him for this would have made any lesser man run.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Erik snapped when he finally gave up on the intent to murder Sherlock with his glances alone. He let out a long sigh. "You know what, forget it, we're leaving. Now." Another version of the weird staring at each other instead of talking communication followed. What ever it was about, it made Erik grin and a wicked smile appear on Charles' lips.

"Right," Charles murmured after a while. He folded his napkin and put it on the table, before he got up. "Well, Sherlock, it was lovely meeting you again, but..." He shrugged and grinned, as he let Erik pull him into a very unmistakably possessive embrace.

"We have to go now," Erik grumbled.

After the couple had left—laughing about some joke nobody but them had been able to hear—John blinked at his flatmate. "What... was that?"

"Mutations, my dear friend," Sherlock replied as if this revelation was the most natural thing in the world. "Charles and I used to wonder about other mutations a lot when we were younger. He's quite astonishing, don't you think?"

John couldn't help but laugh. "Your knife almost attacked you!" he managed to get out. "Not even you could have seen that coming."

"Charles would never let this happen," Sherlock insisted. He motioned John to sit down in Charles' place.

"You don't know that," John went on. "I saw it. You weren't sure, not quite at least."

Sherlock waved it away. "But it was highly unlikely," he said. "Did you notice how natural they had been, talking on a telepathic level? Fascinating, don't you think? Charles and I tried this before, but it never worked for us like this."

John raised an eyebrow. "So he's a telepath or something?" he asked and then added, because he was curious and even more because that would explain quite a lot of things, "Are you a mutant, too?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not sure," he said. "Might be, because an unusual high intelligence is not uncommon from what Charles had told me." When he caught John's doubtful glance, he laughed shortly. "Don't worry, if I was a mutant, the mutation would have manifested by now."

John looked down and shook his head. He could feel Sherlock's eyes fixed on him, but for the first time, he didn't mind it. He started to laugh again. "I'm sorry, but I still can't believe you got almost attacked by bloody cutlery," he managed to get out.

"Oh, come on, leave it alone, will you?" Sherlock complained.

Luckily for him, he was saved by the waiter who brought them dinner. It did confuse him that Sherlock's companion had changed but that didn't stop him from placing a dish in front of John. At least, Charles had an excellent taste in food.

* * *

This might nor might not get a sequel, depending mostly on my big bro's means to force...persuade me.

Anyway, thank you for reading, feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive even more so.


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